


X Years Old

by GoldStarGrl



Category: Psych
Genre: Angst, First Crush, Gen, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:47:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1308754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldStarGrl/pseuds/GoldStarGrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn't be five or ten or sixteen or twenty-two forever. And he couldn't stop loving him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	X Years Old

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on AO3 (although I have quite a collection under the same name on ff.net.) I hope you enjoy!

Shawn is five years old.

Sitting on the tiny plastic bench by the swings, watching all the other kids scream and chase each other around the playground. No one asks him to join in.

Henry dropped him off in the squad car, and by lunch everyone was calling him a tattletale.

"Shawn's gonna put us all in jail!"

Some of the boys are playing kickball across the field. Shawn watches longingly as the red rubber ball pitches up to the sky.

"Can I sit here?"

His gaze comes back down to earth. A boy with dark skin and light clothes is standing in front of him.

"Yeah, I guess." He scoots over and lets the boy sit down on the bench beside him, hands folded neatly in his lap.

"Thanks. I cannot get my khakis dirty." He carefully reaches out.

"I'm Burton. Pleased to meet you."

Shawn cocks his head, confused.

"Why are you talking to me?"

Burton frowns.

"Why not?"

"'Cause everyone thinks I'm a tattletale." Shawn looks down at his sneakers, scuffed up despite being bought only four days before. "They think my dad's gonna arrest everyone."

"You're dad's a police officer? That's so cool!"

Shawn lifts his head.

"Really?"

"Yeah!"

He smiles.

"You're Burton? Shawn."

He bumps his fist to the boy's outstretched hand.

* * *

Shawn is ten years old.

"Shawn, stop torturing yourself." His father says from behind him.

He reaches over and pulls the binoculars away from his son. "So you didn't get invited to some snot nose's party, big whoop. Don't let it ruin your Saturday."

Shawn flopped back on his bed.

"I'm not. I'm just observing." He pauses, crossing his arms over his skinny chest. He tried not to listen to the music and shrieks of laughter coming from down the street. "I didn't want to go to Eddie's stupid birthday party anyway."

Henry shakes his head as he walks from the room.

"Right. Well, stop moping, there's someone at the door to see you."

Shawn sits up as he hears footsteps clattering up the stairs. Gus bounces through his doorframe. He is wearing a blue party hat and holding a slice of cake. Shawn's shoulders slump, and he jerks back over, onto his side.

"What do you want, Gus?"

"I left Eddie's early."

Shawn rises once more.

"...Why?"

Gus shrugs, putting the cake down on the bed.

"It was stupid."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. He had pony rides. What are we, eight?"

Shawn feels the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

"Yeah! Were there binkys and diapers too?"

Gus smiles and pushes the cake towards him.

"Wanna throw pieces of this at his window?"

"Obviously." Shawn's chest feels warm. He's so lucky to have a friend like Gus.

* * *

Shawn is sixteen years old.

"Dude, you can't seriously look me in the eye and tell me _A New Hope_ is better than _The Empire Strikes Back?"_

"I can, and I will." Gus takes a long sip of his soda. "You'll see right now. Quiet, it's about to start."

"Quiet? Why do I have to be quiet? We're the only ones in here!" Shawn's point is made even more evident by the echo of his last word reverberating through the movie theater. "This is what happens when we only watch nerd movies!" He yells loudly in Gus' face.

Gus rolls his eyes as the room goes dark.

"Stop acting like a fool."

"You're a fool." Shawn pushes his arm. Gus shoves him back.

Shove, pinch, slam, they end up on the floor, wrestling.

"Shawn, if there is a single root beer stain on this shirt we are no longer friends!" Gus yelps.

Shawn laughs and pins him on his back, ducking his head so they're almost touching noses. He looks down into Gus' eyes, panting, and his smile fades. A slow, swooping sensation fills his stomach.

Gus' eyebrows crinkle in confusion.

"Shawn?"

"Gus." It comes out too breathy, too low. A jolt of panic runs through his core.

And just as quickly as Shawn fell into it, he pops back up, jerking Gus up by the arm.

"C'mon, it's Jedi time."

He stares down at his popcorn until his cheeks return to their normal color.

Oh no.

* * *

Shawn is twenty-two years old.

"Amelia Grace Georgio."

This tie is choking him.

"August Florenzio Gustavo."

He thinks he's goes to pass out. It might not be the tie's fault. It might be the heat. Or the uncomfortable folding chair he sits on.

"Brittany Elieen Gattan!"

Or Sarah.

Sarah Freaking Parker, sitting next to him, with perfect shiny black hair and her pretty pink lips breaking into a big grin when she hears-

"Burton Elijah Guster."

"Yay!" She jumps up and down as she claps for her boyfriend.

Gus winks at her as he walks across the stage, hand already reaching towards his diploma.

Shawn stands up too, with a clatter.

"WHOOOO! YEAH! GO GUS! THAT IS MY MAIN MAN! YEAH!"

Gus rolls his eyes and Sarah looks sideways at Shawn, disgusted. He quickly sits back down with four hundred eyes on him, trying to look amused and wishing he was anyone but him.

* * *

Shawn is thirty four years old when he can't take it anymore.

They're just walking to the Blueberry, about to head out on another case. Gus is complaining about something or other. His dark skin and light clothes are lit up by the early morning sunlight. He looks like he's glowing.

"And I said, you're damn right you're going to have those Celexa prescriptions ready by tomorrow, otherwise-"

Shawn leans over and kisses him.

Just kisses him, holding onto his lapels for dear life as they stand next to the driver's seat door of that stupid blue car while the sun streams down on them.

It's quiet and soft and feels better than Shawn had ever imagined.

Until Gus pulls away.

He skids backwards like he has fallen off a skateboard, hands brushing off his shirt. His mouth is fighting a smile, like he expects this to be some joke.

But his eyes know it's not.

His eyes give away everything, the shock and sudden understanding as everything Shawn had ever said or done the past twenty-nine years suddenly falls into place.

And there was the pity.

The patronizing, paralyzing pity. Poor Shawn, in love with his best friend, sexually assaulting him in the street like some thirsty dog.

"Oh Shawn-" he starts, and Shawn can't look at him.

"I...I'm so sorry." He blurts out.

And he runs.

Just turns and bolts away before Gus can finish his sentence, before he can permanently crush the tiny hope he's been carrying for decades that they could maybe, someday someway somehow, be together.

He sprints down the Santa Barbra sidewalks until the streetlights come on.

He collapses on the curb and forces himself not to cry. 

* * *

Shawn is thirty-four years old.

Gus finds him almost immediately after he stops running. He sits down on the sidewalk beside him. Shawn keeps looking straight ahead as he slings his arm around him and kisses him on the cheek. Gently, more like he brushed his lips across his face.

"I'm sorry." He says. Slowly and earnestly and Shawn knows he means it with every bone in his body.

He doesn't know what to say now. A million words in a million different arrangements have come spilling out of his mouth nonstop for the past two and a half decades and suddenly he's speechless.

So he kisses Gus again.

Very quickly, pressing hard for barely a second, and then yanking himself away.

"Me too."

And he stands, turning up the street, back to the office, their office, where he knows Gus will be tomorrow, whining about his clothes and lavender oil and work like nothing's changed.

And Shawn knows what to say.

"OK." He tells himself as he walks. "That's enough now. That's enough."

Shawn is thirty four years, seven months, three weeks, and five days old when he finally starts letting go.


End file.
